


Contumelious

by SiladhielLithvirax



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Dooku is a loquacious bastard, Gen, Melida/Daan, Punch Qui-gon Jinn Month, Qui-Gon Jinn Bashing, Snarking over tea, Yoda is a Troll, Yoda people are not therapy tools
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:00:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26279068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiladhielLithvirax/pseuds/SiladhielLithvirax
Summary: Part of Kenobi’s message was still playing on a loop in Yan’s mind as he looked further at the atrocities article after article delineated as warnings to outsiders."We finally got the fighting to stop, an-and I just don’t know how to help them. There are people who want to start the fighting again and I can’t-"Kenobi considered himself a part of one of the sides of this war. Yet he also said the fighting had stopped. Peace seemed to be within reach and a young padawan - no, a young Jedi - knew his limits and had called for help from an Order that had abandoned him.
Relationships: Dooku & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Dooku & Yoda (Star Wars), Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 202
Kudos: 1679
Collections: Anything But Qui-Gon, Punch Qui-Gon and Adopt Obi-Wan, all my homies hate qui-gon





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A response to mneiai's September fic challenge! We'll see where this goes as I had entirely too much fun writing a snarky Dooku.

The beep of Yoda’s personal comm neatly derailed the ah,  _ discussion _ being waged over tea and biscuits regarding the Je’daii and their subsequent iterations and whether the groups had a cohesive set of tenets and beliefs. 

Yoda did not often get comms to his personal number, Yan knew, the number was normally only known to the creche masters and other members of the High Council. 

“Please, do check which of our fellow order members is in need of sage advice and twisting koans, our discussion will keep until the next time we can gather for tea.” Yan couldn’t resist taking a slight bite at the man and his thoroughly vexing manner of playing advocate for a people Yan was studying and yet Yoda once knew. 

“An unknown caller this is, but strangely does the Force act.” Yoda finally responded, after turning the communicator over in his hands a few times. He sets it on the table and lets the blue glow of the holo fill the room. 

It is not a full-grown Jedi as Yan had suspected, but a young child, a curious little boy who seemed to be still shaking and watching the area around him for some unknown danger. 

“Master Yoda, I-I don’t know if this will get to you, or even if you’ll listen to me, but Melidadaan needs help. We finally got the fighting to stop, an-and I just don’t know how to help them. There are people who want to start the fighting again and I can’t-It’s just... Master, Yoda,  _ please,  _ if the Order can spare a Knight or someone to help, then I think Melida/Daan could finally find peace. They could finally- Oh, I-I have to go, I’m sorry, and um, may the force be with you, Master.” 

The recording cut off rather abruptly with the younglings obviously rushed farewell and hasty reach to the out of view communicator, but something about the boy prickled on Yan’s own senses. 

“Padawan Kenobi, that was.” Yoda finally said into the stretch of silence. 

Kenobi. His grand-padawan. Yoda’s great-grand-padawan. The boy had left the order five months ago for a girl he apparently fell in love with on an outer-rim rescue mission of another Master. Yan knew the perceived betrayal of yet another padawan had done nothing for Qui-gon’s demeanor, and almost immediately the man had started taking even more back to back missions in far-flung places. 

“I was under the impression young Kenobi had left the Order for an attachment he cultivated when rescuing another Master.” 

“Told that, the Council was.” Only the long years as Yoda’s apprentice let Yan see the discontent in the pitch of Yoda’s ears. Something was not right, and it was obviously with their own lineage. 

“What exactly was the mission Qui-gon and Kenobi took that resulted in him leaving the Order, Master?” Yan knew bandying about would only let Yoda twist his words and caution patience, but from what little seen in the holo recording, Kenobi likely did not have the time to prevaricate and discuss. 

“In need of recovery, Master Tahl was. Her ship, crashed on Melidadaan it did. Severe, her injuries were.”

Yan held in the sigh that desperately wanted to escape as the name of Qui-gon’s friend was mentioned. Qui-gon had been Yan’s padawan, and no matter how oblivious padawans thought their masters were, Yan knew of the tendre they both held for each other. For all that Qui-gon was forever the Maverick and almost contemptuous of the Orders given by the Council and Senate. If his beloved was in danger, Qui-gon was probably not thinking very rationally. 

“Master Tahl needed to be rescued. From an obviously violent planet, and the Council accepted that as an explanation of why it was perfectly fine to leave a young padawan behind?” Yan knew the Council made ah,  _ curious _ decisions sometimes, but to accept that a young padawan, who himself looked as though he was barely old enough to be a padawan, left the order for love on a planet that another Jedi Master had been seriously injured? Something was wrong here and the fools sitting in judgment above them all had obviously missed it. 

Yan reached over to the low hanging shelves beside Yoda’s table for the datapad and ran a cursory search on Melidadaan. Nothing was immediately apparent but most articles appeared directing him not to Melidadaan, as he had assumed the planet was called, but to Melida/Daan, a small outer rim planet that had apparently been mired in civil war for centuries. Yan’s blood ran cold. He was no innocent when it came to dealing with planetary disputes and the realities of war, but to subject a young padawan to it? That was unconscionable. 

Part of Kenobi’s message was still playing on a loop in Yan’s mind as he looked further at the atrocities article after article delineated as warnings to outsiders. 

_ We finally got the fighting to stop, an-and I just don’t know how to help them. There are people who want to start the fighting again and I can’t- _

Kenobi considered himself a part of one of the sides of this war. Yet he also said the fighting had stopped. Peace seemed to be within reach and a young padawan - no, a young  _ jedi _ \- knew his limits and had called for help from an Order that had abandoned him. 

Yan closed down the articles and placed the datapad on the table before him. Yoda was still watching him and the damnable troll probably knew exactly what went through Yan’s mind. He hadn’t made an effort to shield his emotions in the force from the wizened master. 

He leaned back and reached easily for his tea, probably cold by this point, but still a gesture of patience and deliberation was necessary to get what he wanted from his old Master. Master Windu may lead the order but if Yan was able to secure Yoda’s support, begrudging or not, then Yan would be able to act as he wished. 

“As I am in between missions currently, I will go investigate the young Kenobi’s claims of a peaceful resolution to this abhorrent civil war.” 

Yoda looked like one of the initiates when they first tried his frog stew, to Yan’s internal amusement. 

“A mission for Qui-gon, this is. Hrmm, yes. Not for you.” 

“Alas, my wayward apprentice is off in the far reaches of the galaxy, and to conclude whatever errand he’s chasing there and then make his way to his former padawan would rather defeat the urgency displayed in Kenobi's message.” Yan was going to get this out of Yoda, no matter what the  _ Will of the Force _ said to his Master. Yan, like every Jedi did strive to follow the Force, but where Yoda and his viewpoints diverged was the sentient understanding of such a cosmic power. Yan believed that while the will of the Force may manifest in strange ways and prod someone to a certain path, sentient understanding often clouded the reasoning. 

The grumbling Yan observed as he calmly sipped at his lukewarm tea was probably nothing he should find amusing, yet years of dealing with nothing but koans and riddles had left him with a rather vindictive ability to thoroughly vex Yoda’s plans. While Yan did not tend to do so with any regularity, the ability was the work of many hard years of apprenticeship and left Yan feeling very pleased. 

“Recall Qui-gon to the Temple, I will. See young Obi-wan back to us, you will,” was the response finally prized from the unhappy being across from him. 

The level of care was curious from Yoda, in Yan’s opinion. Yes, his old Master had essentially retired to teach Initiates and help out in the creche, but Yoda had, to the best of his knowledge, restrained himself from being overly involved in anyone's life after vowing to not take another padawan. This almost emotional display left Yan even more intrigued about just what his grand-padawan was like. 

Placing his tea back on the table in front of him, Yan stands to bow to his master and get to the bottom of this entire debacle. 

“Thank you, Master, for the wonderful tea and conversation. We shall have to plan another when I return to the Temple.” After Yan has a chance to find his own sources on his padawan and grand-padawan’s situation. “I can entrust you will inform the council of my imminent departure?” 

Yoda was still sitting at the low mossy pillow he preferred when drinking tea with guests, and looked at Yan with eyes that said he knew exactly what Yan was doing. Well, he probably did. Yan might have gained much experience in verbal sparring from other sources, but Yoda had been his Master, and as Yan had thought of Qui-gon just before, Masters always knew more than their padawan’s thought. 

“May the Force be with you,” Yoda says, nodding his head in agreement. 

“May the Force be with you, my Master.” Turning swiftly on his heel out of the Grandmasters quarters Yan heads quickly to his rooms. He’ll have a datapad with Temple record access there, and the flight through hyperspace will be the perfect chance to read up on all his padawan and grand-padawan have been doing. 

  
  
  
  


Jedi transport shuttles were not the most comfortable of starships to traverse the galaxy in, but they were serviceable for his needs. Arriving in a ship emblazoned with the sigil of the Order would infinitely be more useful than taking his Serennian craft. 

Setting the nav to Melida/Daan took a bit of calculation, the planet being far in the outer rim, almost to D’Qar. How in the world Master Tahl had been stranded there was just another question to add to Yan’s ever-growing list. 

Opening up the datapad Yan took a sip of his tea and leaned back to start in. 

Kenobi’s early record was rather normal for an initiate, but the edits made by creche masters and Yoda himself brought a furrow to his brow. 

_...Premonitions left him with nightmares again, re-assigned to a bunk closer to the Master’s area... _

_...Often does not have an appetite following dreams and visions, crechemate Eerin hovers more than usual the day after a vision as well... _

_...Strong in the Unifying Force, is he. Grounding, he needs...  _

Yan frowns down at the words written by adults who very obviously cared for the young boy. Visions and premonitions were not out of the ordinary for younglings, often they were more open to the Force in its totality and did not yet know how to control that connection, but such frequent notes of dreams and even Yoda’s acknowledgment of the boy’s nature left a bad feeling in the pit of Yan’s stomach. 

Qui-gon had been his apprentice, and never had the man been prone to visions or foresight in any way. Qui-gon himself held his mastery of the Living Force as one of his most prized accomplishments, and all too often the reason for shirking orders and directives. 

Yoda’s notes of needing a grounding force made sense, but that ball of dread in his stomach was still there. 

Yan was not blind to his apprentice’s faults, and of them, disdain for those who followed foresight was chief among them. Qui-gon was certainly a grounding presence, obviously so when he walked around in rumpled robes and those infernal muddy boots. Whatever possessed Qui-gon in choosing the boy for his padawan, Yan had to wonder how his unkempt apprentice dealt with the boy’s strong foresight. 

Turning back to the datapad to peruse the records some more, Yan almost spat out his tea. Having much more self-composure than to ever actually give in to the impulse, he sedately placed the cup back on the console in front of him and reread the line that caused such distress. 

_... reassigned to the AgriCorps, following fight in Initiate dorms with losing opponent from exhibition duel with Initiate Chun...  _

_... Assigned berth on Monument freighter for transport to Bandomeer (See Q.G.J. report #1452.3)...  _

So the boy hadn’t actually been chosen before meeting his own errant apprentice on a mission it seemed. Qui-gon did always like picking up pathetic lifeforms. This stunk terribly of his Master’s machinations, and Yan did not like it one bit. The ease with which Yoda found it to move the Jedi like Dejarik pieces was often frustrating and always disheartening for him to witness. It was partly why Yan had given up his seat on the council, Yoda’s age and influence were great and all too often bending the people around him to achieve his own ends came as second nature to the diminutive master. Well, maybe this once Yan can throw a spanner into one of Yoda’s schemes, teach that meddling old troll that it did not matter how many lifetimes he had watched pass by, people were not to be used as tools. 

Yan took a further sip of his tea, noting he’d need to brew a new pot soon, and settled back in to read the rest of this fascinating report. 


	2. Chapter 2

Obi-Wan shivered as he walked along the old sewer tunnel. The Young were victorious, they had destroyed the Halls of Evidence, the spaceport, the major munitions depots of both the Melida and the Daan, they were steps away from peace and Obi-Wan knew they’d never make it. 

Nield had been growing more and more angry as their war of attrition of sabotage was waged, growing quieter and snarling at all who questioned the orders handed down to their younger compatriots. Cerasi had grown quieter as well, staring blankly at the distant trailing smoke of countless pyres and bombings. 

The factions were right where they wanted them, forlorn and lost and snarling at their own impotence, still maintaining the desperate hatred of each other. Obi-Wan knew it wasn’t sustainable. Getting the leaders into a room and trying for peace was all he could do, poking and prodding and pleading with all his two diplomacy courses had ever taught him was simply not enough to calm the tempers and years of bloodshed on either side. 

The Young were there as victors and soured the Melida and Daan even further, the harsh uncompromising stance of Mawat leading him to create a splinter faction of Scavenger Young and Obi-Wan  _ hurt _ . 

He was tired, and heartsick, and hungry, and just so very lost as he tried to embrace his life in the Young without showing the gaping hole he had in his mind where his bond with Qui-Gon once lay. Yoda had to have heard his message now, It was sent to his personal comm, the one the creche masters didn’t know he’d taken note of when a vision had left him hyper aware and vibrating under his skin. 

Qui-Gon would come. He had to. The planet needed Jedi assistance, and even if he never looked at Obi-Wan again, even if he spurned and glared, Obi-Wan would take it. The Force was crying on this planet at all the death and destruction waged over centuries, why hadn’t Qui-Gon sensed it? 

Turning down another intersection towards the catacombs he shoved that thought away with a grimace, fighting back the tears at the mantra of not-good-enough that dogged his mind whenever he dwelled on his old master. Obi-Wan wasn’t a Jedi anymore. He would never be a Jedi, he had chosen to stand with the Young and here was where he’d stand. 

The Force was still crying out to him, but a soft tendril of peace washed through him. Entering the meeting room Obi-Wan took a bracing breath and stepped forward to meet the challenges ahead. 

_ He would do what he must.  _

  
  


Dropping out of hyperspace above Melida/Daan, Yan sighs as he looks at the barren sky. No traffic, no ships, nothing to show the planet below is even inhabited, huge swathes of brown and gray dot the would-be verdant landscape, centuries of war scrawled across the planet like broad brushstrokes. 

There wasn’t even a spaceport for him to land at. 

Circling the capital city of Zehava, Yan took very deliberate note of the plumes of smoke and fire still streaking the sky. For all that he came here for young Kenobi, this would undoubtedly be a challenging endeavor to apply his diplomacy to, creating and installing a brand new governmental structure. The thought was a heady one, for however much Jedi spurned those twists of pride and presumption that signified a challenge well-suited to their expertise, Yan was rather looking forward to the task before him. Retrieving Kenobi was just a bonus to an otherwise fascinating mission. 

The thought of Kenobi put a slight snag in his thinking of the mission ahead. The information gleaned from various reports and testimonials during the long hyperspace flight here left Yan with a snarl on his lips. Not towards Kenobi, but rather towards his own injudicious padawan. 

Yan had spent years teaching Qui-Gon how to properly fill out reports and senate procedural forms. He knew his padawan's narrative voice as well as his own. 

After Bandomeer, the reports written were not in Qui-Gon’s hand. 

Expecting a thirteen year old boy to compile and elucidate complex mission details into consumable, pertinent flimsi-work was a step beyond the pale for Yan. The contents of said paperwork left even more to be desired. Qui-Gon should honestly be thanking the Force Yan was stuck in hyperspace on the other side of the galaxy while reading through just what his improvident padawan had been up to in the last year. 

Xanatos was a dark spectre over Qui-Gon, yes, and Yan was one of the many in the Temple who had known of Qui-Gon’s reticence in taking another padawan, but to dismiss an initiate after a successful exhibition duel spoke of the height of hubris. The following details in the Bandomeer report were exceedingly short, and only further filled out when comparing testimonials gathered from other members of  _ Monument _ ’s crew. 

A youngling enslaved and forced into hard labour was detestable enough, the fact that detail was not included in the report found in the Jedi Archives more so. The whole enterprise reeked of Yoda’s knarled claws. Only the old troll would have the influence to send an initiate away before their life day had passed and following a victorious exhibition bout. The detail that Qui-Gon was oh so conspicuously aboard the same transport to Bandomeer was exactly the type of underhanded manipulations Yan’s Master employed with distressing frequency. 

If Yoda’s will was to be followed it would have been Qui-Gon here in Yan’s place. Sent down to force some outcome that would benefit Yoda or Qui-Gon no doubt, thoroughly ignoring the youngling caught in the web. Jedi younglings were a different breed than civilians, but even they needed support and care to learn and grow. What is a Jedi’s purpose but to teach and cultivate those that come so future generations would carry their teaching into the future after one has passed into the Force? 

Kenobi had been thrust into a game in which he was not the player, merely a pawn of others and that was unconscionable to Yan. Thwarting Yoda’s plan and making an example of his mistakes may be just what he needs to force some change into the stagnation currently seen in the Council and Jedi at large. There was a lesson to be learned in breaking free form teachings, in questioning and presenting a different point of view that Yan desperately hoped more Knights and Masters would embrace. 

Qui-Gon was his hope for this at one point, his moniker of Maverick well-earned, but his defiance was capricious, one moment following the letter of procedure and the next wandering off with some pathetic lifeform he’d found. Qui-gon had also isolated himself from his fellow Jedi after the disastrous ordeal of his second Padawan and grew even more mercurial. 

Yan sighed as he thought of just what state he would find his grand-padawan in when he found young Kenobi. Fighting a war was horrendous on any sentient, but to be fighting a war as a youngling? Yan was going to bundle Kenobi back up on this ship and throw him at the nearest mind healer he could. First however, Yan had to find a place to land the ship among the bombed out city. 

The Force was unhelpful in that respect, just the same quiet urgency he’d been feeling since watching Kenobi’s transmission in Yoda’s quarters. Yan knew he had to retrieve Kenobi since he saw the holo, but Yan also refused to be as sybaritic as Qui-Gon, following his so-called “Will of the Force.” 

There seemed to be an open clearing to the west of the capital city, the spaceport was very obviously impassable, and Yan did not want to risk setting down anywhere in the city after seeing the twisted remains of various ships under the still smoking rafters of said spaceport. 

Broadcasting out the emergency aid alert all Jedi Transports were equipped with, Yan guided the small transport down into the clearing. The Force was unusually urgent as the landing gear engaged and settled in the dirt, a slight buzzing in his bones like a resonance through malfunctioning hyperspace. 

Yan had never been one of those to whom the Force spoke with any urgency, no intrinsic connection to the Cosmic Force or inadvertent path alongside the Living Force. Instead Yan had built his foundation as a Jedi along the tenets and aforethought of past Jedi, and trusting if he makes a decision it exists as an extension of the Force. 

Here the buzzing is getting louder, insistent tugs urging him faster and faster the longer he takes on post-flight checks. The ramp has not even touched the ground before Yan is striding off, following this novel prodding at the edge of his senses. 

_ Fasterfasterquicklyfaster _

The Force seems to beat, and Yan doesn’t know when his hand enclosed around the curved hilt of his saber, but the tension bleeding into the Force from the curious group of what looks like refugees drags all of Yan’s attention as he comes upon what looks like a city square. Voices are raising between younglings and adults and there’s a flash of copper and a girl running and- 

The bolt ricochets off into the ground at Yan’s feet, the sound of his saber and the blaster bolt silencing the contentious fracas around him. 

“Cerasi!” 

A youngling in what looks like too large incongruous armor pushes through the silence to fall to his knees at Yan’s feet, and yes, under the dirt and grime is undoubtedly Obi-Wan Kenobi. Yan’s saber is still lit, his body having fallen into a Makashi stance after deflecting the blaster shot meant for the girl being frantically checked over by the young Padawan. 

“Padawan Kenobi.” Yan said, eyes still scanning the rooftops for a glint or glare of a scope, “It seems as if tensions here are not entirely settled. May we convene for an appraisal of current strife?” 

The girl, Cerasi apparently, was quickly coming back to her senses, and Kenobi was on his feet within the first syllable of the word Padawan. He felt like a swirl of fear and anger before it was locked behind shaky shields, Body tensing as he stopped himself from bowing in welcome to Yan. Hmm, Still clinging to the Jedi teachings he was raised with but outwardly distancing himself from the Order. This would be a difficult mission if local impression was already turned away from the Jedi. Just what did Qui-Gon do to these people?  Yan knew Kenobi had left the order, but feeling the lingering miasma of fear and death that permeated every grain of sand was humbling. If his shields were not up to the task, feeling this atmosphere and doing nothing would be unconscionable. How could Qui-Gon have left his 13-year-old padawan in this? 

Truly the fact Kenobi was standing here firmly in the light was proof of the youngling's fortitude and determination, a lready the sorrowful notes of the Force were easing with whatever Kenobi had accomplished on this planet. 

And judging by the quick glances and subtle shifting from all of the children Kenobi was in fact the one who was responsible for any progress. The still wary looks Kenobi was getting from what appeared to be the leaders of the Older groups were even more telling, fear, anger, and not a small amount of respect. Fascinating. It was time Yan had a talk with his grand-padawan. 


	3. Chapter 3

Yan leaned back in his seat at the head of the hastily put together conference room. They’d managed to get the Melida and Daan leaders on opposite sides of the table, with the Young faction occupying the opposite side from Yan himself. It was that particular group Yan was paying the closest attention to, the group containing his grand-padawan. 

It was easy to hide the focus of his observation from the so-called Elders, the Melida and the Daan were too busy glaring at each other for them to think of much else. Thoroughly tedious, the two men on either side of the table hardly merited their seats for all their bargaining power. No, the Melida and the Daan were now rather toothless entities, and it was all due to the final group sitting at the table. 

Three younglings, not a one older than 14, and they have terrified the two warring factions that have been decimating each other for centuries. While the idea of children fighting and winning a war is unequivocally abhorrent, Yan does have to give credit where it is due. Without the actions of these young children the Melida and the Daan would, without a doubt, still be fighting today. 

That fact is readily apparent after being in the same room as the two glaring Elders for upwards of a minute. 

Yan once again forces himself to think of his own padawan in this circumstance. While it is impossible to know what the Force was whispering in Qui-Gon’s ear at the time, Yan cannot believe for a moment it wanted this world to be consigned to ruin and desolation. 

Qui-Gon was held up as a Master of the Living Force. He continually vexed the Council with his rampant escapades to places far afield of wherever his mission was actually consigned to. Yan distinctly remembers more than a few curious creatures being found in the quarters he had shared with his padawan prior to his knighting, and the incorrigible gossip from the Temple assures him that particular affliction has not abated in the years since Qui-Gon’s braid was cut. 

The only outcome that Yan could possibly conceive of to blind his former Padawan to the sorrow and despair lingering in every dust mote of this planet is if Qui-Gon prioritized his paramour, Master Tahl, over the Force. Tahl, Yan knew from his time in Temple, was blinded and recovering. While her injuries may have been life-threatening during her rescue, There were many options available to Qui-Gon that did not involve separating from his padawan.

The raised voice of Wehutti, the Melida representative breaks through Yan’s thoughts, “-I am never going to let some two-cred- _ freg’d-” _

Yan sighed, as well as the Young were holding their own, he did have to inject now and again,

“Gentlemen, your party’s positions appear to be diametrically opposed and thus polarizing. If continually presented as such, both sides bear indictment under terms of censure or departure from these talks.” 

The slight smile Obi-Wan is hiding as he looks at the floor ensures the padawan at least remembers his own Diplomacy and Mediation classes. Obi-Wan’s eyes flicked up to where Yan was watching him, then flicked away just as fast to focus on where Cerasi, the girl who was the target of the blaster rifle, was laying out points of Young concern. 

Yan drifted a bit further in the Force, feeling the tensions and atmosphere of the room and its occupants. Anger, fear, grief, determination, and hope. It was a potent mixture of the past centuries this planet had endured, a miasma of grief, destruction, and anger, contrasted with the bright, determined presence of the children before him. That determination was binding them towards their goal of peace for the planet. A goal Yan had every intention of facilitating. 

All of this makes Qui-Gon’s prioritization of Tahl quite hypocritical. It is astounding that his own former padawan continually despairs of the Jedi Order for not listening to the Force and putting precedence to Senate edicts, but then turns around and puts his own personal attachments over the Force. Qui-Gon’s fickle nature seems to be the height of dishonor and hubris. 

Yan is a proud man, he knows, oft disdained by those who believe the life of a Jedi requires more sacrifice than he personally exemplifies, but never has he felt such shame in something he has had a hand in as the apparent inadequacy of his former Padawan. 

An example of which sits across from him at this very table. 

Obi-Wan was holding his own very well. The two locals with whom he had thrown his support to when leaving the Order were bracketing him as they presented a united front against their Elders. The girl, Cerasi, was upholding the moral position and cutting through the pontificating from the Elders, while the young man on the other side of Obi-Wan, Nield if he recalled correctly, snarled and hoarded their negotiating points like a Krayt guarding its pearls. 

Obi-Wan was the main interlocutor between the three factions, his earlier embarrassment at catching Yan’s gaze mostly overcome with the dilemma before him. He wove verbal rings around the old men who would growl at him then flinch back in equal measure as they tried to wring concessions out of the Young. 

Yan isn’t even doing much besides ensuring all parties remained receptive to the negotiations at hand. The cachet of his position as a Republic Representative was apparently enough to facilitate talking instead of the open hostilities like what he walked into hours ago. 

There is still the issue of just who exactly was shooting at the girl, Cerasi. However, Yan hoped to clear that up after he manages to get his grand-padawan alone for more than a single moment. 

As much as installing a new government was going to be the work of months, the power players really had the deck stacked in their favor. The Young had won the war. They were, for all intents and purposes, the reigning power on the ground. Mawat was utilizing that to the fullest degree, asserting fully the jabs at past battles Cerasi sidestepped and Obi-Wan alluded to.    
  
Not to mention the wealth of knowledge Obi-Wan brought to the table himself. After listening to the Elders and the children it was remarkably obvious no formal education had existed for quite a long time, or if it did, the formal education stopped before delving into any type of civics or ethics. Obi-Wan, with his Temple education, was easily the most knowledgeable at the table barring Yan himself. He’d obviously been teaching his compatriots over the past months, probably as a token of hope for what will be while fighting in an abhorrent war. 

They had been in this room for 2 hours. Not an altogether long period of time to discuss the formation of a planetary government, but plenty of time for them to speak to each other, air any terrible grievances, and figure out the relative bargaining power of all sides. 

It was time to commence genuinely laying out the edifice upon which Melida/Daan will build its government. 

“Peace, we shall have a brief reprieve for 15 minutes, then we shall discuss the future plans of this planet.” 

  
  
  


Sitting across from Obi-Wan at tea was easier than sitting across a negotiation table from him. There was no reason to focus on anything else but the boy as Yan casually sipped his tea. 

Obi-Wan had obviously been anxious about this visit. He was leaking stress and tension into the Force. The poor boy no doubt thought Yan was there to castigate or denounce his actions since Qui-Gon’s departure. After all, not many 13-year-olds fight in wars. 

Not many 13-year-olds  _ win _ wars for that matter. 

“Your command of negotiations is worthy of praise, Padawan Kenobi.” 

The boy startled, flinching at the first syllable of the word padawan and then staring into Yan’s eyes with a furrowed brow. 

“I’m sorry, Master Dooku, but I cannot claim the title of Padawan any longer.” 

“Oh?”

The fidgeting returned but was quickly stopped as Obi-Wan took a deep breath before answering his query. 

“Master Jinn was witness to my rep- _ resignation  _ from the Jedi Order, Master Dooku.” Obi-Wan looked down at his lap for a moment, spinning the cup in his hands while barely disturbing the meniscus of the tea. “Forgive me, but Master Tahl, is she..?” 

“Master Tahl is healthy and well, young Kenobi.” 

Some of the tension wracking the boy’s Force presence left at Yan’s assurance. So the youngling had care for Qui-Gon’s paramour. Not unexpected given Qui-Gon’s own tendencies. Yet Kenobi had still chosen to stay after they had rescued Master Tahl. Fascinating. 

“I stand by the earlier assertion of your exemplary negotiation tactics.” 

“Thank you, Master Dooku.” 

“You have shown remarkable fortitude and display a keen grasp of the role of heretog for the Young.” Yan leans back in his chair and takes another sip of his tea. Obi-Wan flushes under the praise, hunching his shoulders before peering out at him with a furrowed brow, 

“Heretog? Master, I don’t know what that means.” 

“A commander of armies, young one, a general for short.” The flinch this time is much more pronounced when Yan uses the term ‘general’. Leading a child army for months on end has affected the boy more than he lets on, no doubt. Well, it’s something they can work on. 

“Rarely has a padawan gone through the trials you have faced and succeeded. My own former padawan was remiss in forcing an ultimatum regarding your future.” 

“Master Dooku, the only way Melida/Daan has peace is because of you, I thought- surely it was going to...I thought I could help them, but there was so much anger-” His voice cracked, and Yan watched on in silence. Obi-Wan had been pushed to the edge in this conflict and Yan was inclined to wait and understand more of Obi-Wan’s thoughts before proceeding with what he wished. 

“Everything was falling apart. There were the Scavenger Young, and kids were still dying and I th-think it was m-my fault.” 

Obi-Wan’s voice had been wavering from the onset, and Yan watched as the boy set his cup down and ran his hands over his thighs as he swallowed through a throat tied up in knots. He gave the boy a moment to compose himself before realizing composure was not going to happen. Obi-Wan sucked in a breath as his eyes started to shine before he shut them tight. 

A tearful padawan was not the point of this chat, however, and Yan decided to interrupt before things devolved further. 

“My arrival was fortuitous, but do not discount your own contributions to the peace that grasps this planet. Death, yet the Force, young Kenobi. None of what has come to pass is an inculpation of your actions. Rather, it is due to your diligence and impavid nature I chose to venture at the behest of your call.” 

A few tears had escaped the boy’s eyes during Yan’s pronouncement, but his breathing was still raspy and strained. He was looking at Yan as if he held the answers to every question, getting his breathing under control again and straightening from where he had hunched in the onslaught of effusive emotion. Something in Yan’s chest grew warm at the further proof this young man would make a most suitable padawan. 

“Thank you Master Dooku, but the determination of the Young is really what deserves acknowledgment for the peace, their belief is what bridged the gap between the Melida and the Daan.” 

“I am sure there shall be paean for the Young aplenty when the details of the Government Charter are finalized.” Yan uncrossed his leg and draped an arm along the back of the chair, projecting as much relaxation and support into the Force as he could for the next fraught line of questioning. 

“I have stated my padawan was remiss in offering you the ultimatum, but I feel I must elaborate on the details of my padawan’s failings.” Obi-Wan straightened up at that, tensing from the relaxation Yan’s subtle force manipulations had settled in him. 

“Qui-Gon is an adult, and furthermore a Master in his own right who is aware of the obligations of taking on a padawan. He betrayed these values when he left you in the middle of a war and discarded your view of the situation.” Obi-Wan looks confused now, the furrow between his brows apparent as he stares at the ground just to the left of Yan. He sits back to wait out the boy, curious as to what the younglings contention might be. 

Obi-Wan starts slowly, choosing his words with care, a trait Yan greatly appreciates. 

“Our mission was to rescue Master Tahl. It was not to interfere in the war that was going on. The Senate had declared it an internal matter of Melida/Daan.” The boy finally meets his eyes at the end of his careful sentence, obviously loathe to offer castigation on the Master who had saved him from a life in the AgriCorps. Yet Yan has read all of the reports, and the additional testimonials most would not bother with. His padawan had plucked this child from one of Yoda’s schemes, and Yan was quick to nip the admiration tinging his tone when Obi-Wan spoke of Qui-Gon. 

“There are other alternatives Qui-Gon could have sought rather than simply accepting your resignation.” Yan had caught the underlying word Obi-Wan had almost used previously, and repudiation is exactly what Qui-Gon had attempted to do with this boy. However, he shall remain diplomatic and address Obi-Wan’s insecurities after the youngling is assured of his place. 

“My former padawan has oft spurned the edicts of the Senate and the Council, to steadfastly cling to them under this circumstance speaks more to the emotionally compromised state he was in more than a wish to follow decrees he disdains. We are Jedi. We are ever seeking that which the Force wills. The Force is what prompted your defense of the Young’s goals, did it not?”

“Yes Master Dooku, and-”

“Where do you foresee your path forward Obi-Wan? You are instrumental to the peace that now exists on Melida/Daan, but shall you stay here for the rest of your days, perpetually mediating between sides who disdain your influence?” Yan knew he was stacking the deck in his favor by putting these thoughts into Obi-Wan’s mind, but the boy was only 13. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi was meant to be a Jedi, that was clear from the reports of crechemasters and instructors. His visions and foresight would not abate outside the shelter of an Order of Force Sensitives and the terror the Elders had when meeting the boy’s eyes would not diminish by taking a place in the government. The only place to properly cultivate his gifts would be in the Jedi. 

Qui-Gon had lost the opportunity to mold this boy into a Jedi, Yan would not squander his. 

“I never knew I would end up following this path, Master Dooku. I was meant to be a Jedi.” 

The careful consideration in the response pleased Yan. Obi-Wan was not prone to the asinine behavior of many of his yearmates, he had been forged into someone already aware of the cost of reckless behavior. 

“Well then Obi-Wan, I have a final question for you.” 

“Yes, Master Dooku?” 

“Would you consent to be my padawan learner?” 

“I-Yes Master Dooku! Master, I would be honored to accept your teaching.” 

The boy was already on his feet and bowing before finishing his assent, and Yan rose with much more grace to mimic the bow of the boy before him. 

Yes, Obi-Wan Kenobi would be a Jedi. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dooku is saving poor bby Obi-Wan, but he's still a manipulative bastard. This might end up going over the 4 chapters I have planned out. Not quite sure yet, but we'll see. 
> 
> Anyway, all of your comments give me life and I adore every one of you! I'm so happy people like my characterization of Dooku! He's surprisingly a lot of fun to write. Plus I get to really exercise my vocab for his ridiculous pretentious verbosity.


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